


By Any Other Name

by hailtherandom



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Banter, Bottom Sam Wilson, Casual Sex, F/M, Natasha Romanov's Black Widow Dildo, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Sex Toys, Strap-Ons, Top Natasha Romanov, the internet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 19:16:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2359247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hailtherandom/pseuds/hailtherandom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Much like Steve, there are t-shirts and tattoos of that red hourglass shape, some sites dating back to the Battle of New York when some blurry cell phone pictures and helicopter news shots turned them all into national celebrities. And in between an “authentic Black Widow belt buckle” and someone dressed in a black catsuit, Sam bursts out laughing.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>He laughs for a good five minutes, tapering off and looking at the tiny thumbnail and cracking up again, and when he finally gets himself under control, he digs out his wallet and logs into eBay.</i>
  <br/>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Any Other Name

**Author's Note:**

> A wise woman once told me that if you get your friend a sex toy as a joke, they will almost definitely end up using it, so you better get a good one.  
> She was absolutely right.
> 
> This is a rather silly fic.
> 
> Also, Sam and Natasha aren't romantically involved here. They just like fucking. You would too, if you looked like Sam and Natasha.

It starts, as things so often do, with the internet.

Sam will admit to occasionally Googling himself, just for the hell of it, and for a long time, there was never anything out of the ordinary. His high school graduating class, some local little news articles about his father, pictures of him with friends at parties, and - later on - articles about his pararescue unit, with a header photo of him and Riley in the air, running training drills.

All that changes, after the fight in DC.

It takes a few days for people to identify his face from grainy security camera footage and then his name is all over the news feeds. It’s buried a little, overshadowed by everything that is the conglomerate mess of SHIELD and HYDRA, but articles about him appear on the Huffington Post and CNN, praising his actions on MSNBC and glorifying his service record on Fox. A couple of sites question his presence, question the legality of stealing the wing pack, question the relationship between him and Captain America - Sam snorts into the cup of coffee Steve made for him - and wonder if he was secretly a member of the Avengers all along.

When reading about himself gets too boring, Sam looks up Steve Rogers. Under the slew of fan blogs and shield tattoos, there’s nothing new, nothing he hasn’t read in history books or heard from Steve himself. Some of the SHIELD missions are interesting, but they aren’t incriminating, at least not on the surface, and the public knows that Steve believes in good enough to be an on the surface kind of guy.

Sam spends enough time looking for Bucky in real life to want to look for him online - and he’s read everything there is to know in scribbled HYDRA files - so he never looks for Bucky. Steve keeps watch for hints on news sites so that he doesn’t have to.

Reading about Natasha Romanoff seems invasive and weird. Natasha has assured him that it’s fine, that she allowed her information to be released, and Sam wasn’t there in the World Security Council meeting but he knows that it was a forced hand. Natasha is a secretive person, but she is also utilitarian, and exposing her life turned out to be the best way to start to fix things.

Sam still feels weird about it.

He doesn’t look for Natasha Romanoff because it feels too personal. The Black Widow feels safer, even though it isn’t. It’s exactly the same, but without the personal tag to it, and with a great deal more merchandise.

Much like Steve, there are t-shirts and tattoos of that red hourglass shape, some sites dating back to the Battle of New York when some blurry cell phone pictures and helicopter news shots turned them all into national celebrities. And in between an “authentic Black Widow belt buckle” and someone dressed in a black catsuit, Sam bursts out laughing.

He laughs for a good five minutes, tapering off and looking at the tiny thumbnail and cracking up again, and when he finally gets himself under control, he digs out his wallet and logs into eBay.

Five days later, he gets a package in the mail and doesn’t even open it. He just leaves a note on the top that says ‘for Natasha’ on it and leaves it on the counter and barely gets any of his paperwork done because he keeps glancing at the box and snickering.

Natasha gets home around eight at night, after Steve and Sam have finished dinner. She looks tired, but not unhappy. Sam wonders how many HYDRA agents died today.

“Hey Nat, you got a package,” Steve calls from the table, where he and Sam are playing cards.

“Yeah? Who from?” Natasha asks, stripping off her jacket.

“Don’t know, Sam brought it in.”

“It’s from New York,” Sam supplies. “Probably one of Hill’s names. Steve did an electronics scan, it all came back clean.”

“Alright, I’ll check it out.” Natasha grabs the box on the way to the guest bedroom. “Is there any dinner left?”

“Some rice and a chicken thigh still in the pot. Steve made chicken and rice.”

Natasha makes a noncommittal noise and shuts the door behind her.

Steve puts down a seven of diamonds.

Sam picks it up and puts down a queen of hearts.

Steve draws a card off of the deck and swaps it for a two of clubs.

“Sam, this package is addressed to you,” Natasha calls.

“Nah, Tasha, it’s for you,” Sam yells back. “Promise.”

He draws a nine of diamonds and sticks four of his cards together, then discards a five of clubs.

Steve scowls a little and curses under his breath as he picks it up.

“Wilson!”

The shout echoes around the house and Sam howls in laughter, folding his cards so he doesn’t drop them. Steve stares at him, bewildered, and Natasha comes storming out of the guest bedroom, box in hand.

She drops the box onto the table between them and crosses her arms. Sam buries his face in his hands because he cannot stop laughing, even when Natasha smacks him across the back of the head.

“What? What is it?” Steve lifts up the flap of the box and peers in, and then his ears go pink. “Um…?”

“What the hell, Sam?” Natasha demands.

Sam holds up his hands in supplication, still laughing. “I couldn’t not.”

Natasha just sighs at him. “Where did you find this?”

“The internet, man! You can buy anything on eBay!”

“I cannot believe you,” Natasha mutters.

“Why? You don’t already have one, do you?”

Natasha sputters and Sam takes a second to feel accomplished. “No, Sam, I do not already have a Black Widow dildo!”

Sam presses his lips together, but an undignified snort forces its way out anyway. Natasha looks so indignant that he gives up pretending to be serious and just giggles as he picks his cards back up.

“You are unbelievable,” Natasha repeats, and just a hint of amusement bleeds through her voice.

Sam puts down an ace of hearts. “Look, I just thought it was something you needed to own, alright? You want me to trade it in for a shirt or a Captain America vibrator, you just say the word.”

Steve chokes and even Natasha has to laugh at him. “Excuse me?”

“You hang out on the wrong parts of the internet, man,” Sam says.

“You know what, I don’t think I do.” Steve puts down a jack of spades.

Sam picks it up and lays ten cards down on the table triumphantly. “Gin.”

“Damn.” Steve scoops up the cards and starts shuffling. “Do you want to play, Nat?”

“No thanks. I have files to read.” Natasha picks up the box and taps it lightly against the top of Sam’s head.

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Sam asks, grinning.

Natasha doesn’t even dignify him with a response as she walks about out of the kitchen.

“Captain America vibrator! Just let me know!”

The guest bedroom door closes loudly.

Steve puts the deck of cards down and lays his hand over Sam’s. “Let’s not with the vibrator, okay?”

“I don’t know, man, it could be fun,” Sam says. “I might want one for myself.”

Steve’s ears turn red this time.

-

Steve is out on an overnight mission, clearing out a HYDRA base near the Virginia/North Carolina border. They scouted it a few days ago and found it deserted by people but full of file cabinets and half-constructed machinery that survived the fire. Steve rents a U-Haul and drives down to Eden, North Carolina to load up what he can. Sam arranges a rendezvous with some of Hill’s team in DC at noon the next day to pass off information and filter out anything that might have to do with Bucky.

Sam worries, just a little bit, but Steve assures him that he’ll be fine.

He takes advantage of the quiet evening to actually catch up on his paperwork. He’s a couple of weeks behind, and the VA is lenient to a point, what with him being a national hero, but he still has deadlines that they don’t hesitate to enforce when they know he has the time.

He’s partway through a patient’s file when Natasha comes into the kitchen. She fills up a pot with water and puts it on the stove to boil, then hops up onto the counter.

“You making dinner?” Sam asks absently.

“No.”

“Cool, save me some.”

Natasha chuckles and they lapse back into silence.

Once the water starts bubbling gently, she turns the heat down and plops something into the pot. Sam glances up - he hadn’t heard her cutting anything. Maybe he just didn’t notice.

“What are you making?” he asks, pushing the file away and signing it with a flourish.

“I’m not making anything.” Natasha digs a spoon out of the silverware drawer and pokes at the water.

“Oh. I thought you said you were making dinner.”

“Nope.”

“Oh. What’s that then?”

Natasha shakes her head and rolls her eyes.

Sam pushes himself out of his chair with a quiet groan and walks into the kitchen. Natasha pokes him in the side with the spoon as he peers into the pot.

“Natasha?”

“Yes, Samuel?”

“Why are you boiling a dildo?”

Natasha looks scandalized. “Like I would use it without sanitizing it.”

Sam raises his eyebrows. “Is it safe to boil it? Won’t it melt?”

“Nope.” Natasha pokes the dildo again with the spoon and the red hourglass turns toward them. “It’s hot enough to kill germs, but silicon doesn’t melt in water.”

“Oh.” Sam stands there and watches Natasha drain the pot in the sink and put the dildo on a kitchen towel. “Wait, doesn’t that mean you’re going to use it?”

“Well, it’s a bit like having condoms with your face on it, isn’t it? Weird but secretly cool?”

“Whoa, who had a condom with their face on it?”

“Clint found one and bought a whole box,” Natasha says, completely straight-faced. “There’s one with Steve too, but don’t tell him.”

Sam chuckles. “Has Clint fucked someone with his own condom?”

Natasha smirks. “How do you think I know about it?” She dries the dildo off, throws the towel onto the sink, takes it back to the guest bedroom.

“So you are gonna use it?” he yells after her.

He could be imagining it, but he thinks that she laughs.

He goes back to working (three files left, due on Cassidy’s desk by Monday) and finishes one and a half of them before Natasha yells, “Hey Sam!”

“What?”

“Come here!”

Sam sets his pen down on top of the file and hauls himself up. He leans against the door frame and pushes the door open. “What’s up– oh, Jesus.” He throws one hand up and stumbles back a step. “Nat, what the hell?”

Natasha stands in the middle of the room, hands on her hips, wearing a black tank top but bare-legged, with leather straps wrapping around her waist and between her legs and holding the dildo in place. She looks entirely too smug.

“You like it?”

“Um…”

“Come on, Wilson, put your hand down.”

Sam lets his hand drop to his side and looks Natasha up and down. “It, uh… It suits you,” he says finally.

“I like it,” Natasha says, twisting from side to side like she’s admiring the angle.

“Well, hell, Nat, I’m glad I got it then,” Sam chuckles.

Natasha runs one fingertip up the length to the silicon head. Sam’s cock stirs in his jeans. “You wanna give it a go?”

“What?”

Natasha smiles and Sam suddenly gets the impression that he’s about to be eaten. “I let you fuck me. It’s only fair that you return the favor.”

Sam’s tongue flicks out over his bottom lip. “Fair’s fair, I guess.”

Natasha beams. “Attaboy. Come here.”

Sam gladly falls into her arms, letting her steal his breath through the press of her lips. Her hands wind around his neck, forearms coming to rest on his shoulders. His palms smooth over the cotton of her tank top and her eyelashes flutter against his cheeks. She pulls him closer, draws him in, and the tip of his dildo bumps into his thigh. It’s unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. He decides he likes it and pushes his hip forward a little to demonstrate his approval.

Natasha laughs into the kiss. “Down, boy.”

Sam wrinkles his nose. “Hey.”

“Sorry.” She kisses his forehead and then his mouth again.

“S’alright.” She pushes herself up on her toes and he locks his hands under her ass and suddenly lifts her up off the ground. The bed gives a little squeak of complaint as she falls back onto it and then his body is covering hers, legs linking together and Natasha’s breasts pressing into Sam’s chest. She kisses sweeter than he would have thought months ago, seeing her ride the Soldier’s shoulders like a Spanish bull, but she also kisses hard, like she won’t ever let go. Sam moans quietly and buries his face in her neck.

Her fingertips scratch lightly over his hair. “You’re so good.”

He smirks against her skin. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

She smacks him gently. “Here, roll over.”

Sam rolls off of her, to the side, and the second he’s flat on his back, she’s straddling his hips, trailing little touches over his chest, stealing his air through her fingers. She pinches gently at one nipple, hard even though his shirt, and his hips buck up hard. She does it again, harder this time, and he lets out a broken moan. “Shit, Nat.”

Natasha grins and pushes his shirt up around his shoulders, then ducks her head down. Sam gasps when he feels her tongue flick out over the sensitive flesh.

She grinds her ass down against his hardening cock. His hands grip her hips and pulls her down flush and she laughs.”Now you’re getting eager.”

“How could I not?”

Her teeth tug gently at his right nipple in reply and Sam chokes out a quiet curse.

“How long has it been since someone fucked you?”

“Whenever the last time we did was,” Sam grunts. “A week ago?”

“No, I mean, how long since someone fucked you?”

“Oh.” Sam frowns. “What makes you think anyone’s ever fucked me before?”

“Are you saying I’m wrong?”

Sam scrunches his nose at her. “A couple years. My girlfriend then, she had a couple of tricks she liked.”

Natasha hums in approval. “Good taste.”

“It was pretty great. Not so personal, though. She didn’t have no fake dick with her face on it or anything.”

Natasha sits up a little. “I can go get one of the Steve condoms if you want.”

Sam grimaces. “Don’t know that I could look him in the face after that.”

“Suit yourself,” Natasha shrugs. “Take off your pants.”

She shifts to the side to lie next to him, dropping kisses over his collarbone and his jaw and his shoulder as he tugs open his zipper and wiggles out of his jeans. He feels oddly self-conscious, lying there with his underwear straining and his shirt rucked up, but Natasha’s eyes are dark as she looks at him.

She slips one finger under the elastic band and snaps it against his hip. “These too.”

“So demanding,” Sam gripes, but he’s already kicking his boxers down onto the floor. Natasha smoothes one hand down his chest and grips his cock loosely. Sam lets out a contented sigh. “That’s it.”

“Is it?” Natasha asks teasingly. “I thought you had better stamina than that.”

“You know I have good stamina,” Sam shoots back. He reaches down and closes his hand around hers and starts jerking himself a little faster.

“You better not come before I fuck you,” Natasha says idly.

“Excuse me?” Sam nudges her with his elbow. “I’m offended.”

She grins and squeezes his cock once, then rolls off the side of the bed.

“Where’re you going?” Sam asks.

“You wanna get fucked without lube?” Natasha crouches down, looking under a pair of jeans and one boot.

Sam blanches, and waves one hand. “Take your time.”

Natasha pops back up after a second, holding a small tube in one hand. “You know, the Steve condoms are lubricated.”

“Tell you what, you get them to make Falcon condoms and we’ll talk.”

Sam pulls his legs up and Natasha sits down on the end of the bed and rests one hand on his knee. “I’m not going to do that, Sam,” she purrs, “because your ego would probably explode.”

Sam throws his head back and laughs. “Hey, I ain’t the one with a personalized dildo being sold on eBay.”

“Not yet.” Natasha pushes his knee to the side and Sam’s stomach drops a little. He suddenly feels too exposed, but Natasha runs her hands lightly over the insides of his thighs as she presses his legs outward and it helps a little. “That’s good, Sam.”

Sam closes his eyes and nods. “You wanna warm that up a little first?”

“Alright. Just for you.” Sam hears the slick sound of liquid being squirted out of a tube, and then the sound of Natasha’s hands sliding together, working up some friction. He hisses as one hand wraps around his cock again, dragging slowly upward, and the other presses two fingers against the spot right behind his balls. “You good?”

“Start with one,” Sam murmurs. “It’s been a while.”

“Alright.” Natasha runs her fingers over Sam’s ass, then drips a bit more lube onto her fingers. Sam jerks at the cold, but Natasha’s hand leaves his cock and presses down on his hip, holding him in place. She gathers up the spare drips and lines her finger up, rubbing gently against the tight muscle. “Relax, or bear down.”

Sam tries to release all the tension in his hips, but it’s hard, especially when he feels the tip of Natasha’s finger breaching him. He bites his tongue and inhales deeply, and Natasha makes a quiet, displeased noise. “Does it hurt?”

“No, not yet. I’ll tell you,” Sam says. “Keep going.”

Natasha nods and starts working her finger forward again, millimeters at a time. Sam tries to bear down, but it burns too slow, too long, so he reaches down and grabs her hand and says, “Just do it, Nat.”

“You sure?” Natasha sounds a little surprised.

“Yeah, doing it slow makes it worse. Do it now, I’ll get used to it.”

Natasha shrugs. “You’re the one who’s gonna be walking funny tomorrow.” She shakes his hand off and squeezes his hip and pushes her finger in hard.

Sam yelps but he feels his body open around her, feels her knuckles brushing against his ass, feels his pulse fluttering in his neck and when he opens his eyes, Natasha is staring at him intently. “What?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing.”

Sam wiggles his hips a little. “That never stops being weird.”

Natasha curls her finger and Sam squirms. “That’s what Clint says.”

“You always talk about your other partners when you have your finger in a dude’s ass?”

“Just the ones who would appreciate it.” Sam opens his mouth to object, but Natasha winks and flexes her finger again and a strangled grunt is all that makes it out instead.

She draws her hand back a little and thrusts forward again, and it doesn’t feel as intrusive as last time. Sam bears against her and it feels easier now.

She waits until his abdomen stops tensing, then starts on a second finger. Sam squeezes her wrist as she works them in together, and she rubs his hip soothingly. “You’re doing fine, Sam. You got this.”

Sam groans and nods. “I’m okay.”

Natasha bows her head and kisses the inside of his thigh. Sam feels a rush of warmth in his chest.

She brings him up to three fingers the same way, and it starts to get uncomfortable again. She’s not doing anything besides stretching him, and he can feel the ache of the muscles without having the sweet burn of pleasure to balance it out. Sam jerks his hips as she thrusts in again, but Natasha just shakes her head and holds him down again.

“C’mon, Nat, give me something,” he grumbles.

“Wait.” Something in her voice makes him still immediately, and it doesn’t feel better, but it does feel tolerable.

He starts as cool fingers close around his cock again, working him back to full hardness. He bites his lip and and thrusts up into her hand. “That’s it,” she murmurs. “That’s good.” Sam smiles a little to himself, breathing hard through his nose when he feels her fingers pull free.

He hears the tube’s cap pop open and the slick sound of wet against wet, but Natasha’s working his cock faster and harder, so he doesn’t give it any attention until something cold and blunt is pressing up against his ass.

Sam’s eyes fly open again and Natasha is propping herself up on her knees, carefully guiding the dildo into him. He grinds his teeth against the stretch and reaches up to grab her biceps, loosely. She flexes them a little, probably instinctually, but she doesn’t look up from where the black silicon is inching its way into Sam’s body. It’s a slick burn, almost worse than friction because there’s no edge to the sting, but Sam’s head thunks back against the pillow and he closes his eyes and breathes hard through his nose until the straps on Natasha’s thighs are flush against his ass and she’s curling over him, turning his face toward her.

“You still with me, Wilson?”

“Yep, ‘m here,” Sam mumbles. He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes and Natasha’s laser-like focus, previously on working him open and filling him up, is now directed straight at him. It makes him shiver, makes heat pool at the base of his spine, makes his fingers tighten just a little around Natasha’s arms.

Natasha smiles. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Sam takes a few more breaths through his nose, then nods. “I’m good.”

Natasha immediately ducks down and kisses him again, wet and open-mouthed, teeth scraping against his lower lip. Sam moans into the suddenness of it and bucks when her hands find his chest again, nails scraping over his nipples. He kind of wants her to duck her head down and replace her fingers with her tongue, but Natasha is doing something with her tongue that Sam doesn’t think he’s ever felt before, so he doesn’t dare break her from it.

He’d all but forgotten the steady pressure inside him, but suddenly that sensation comes back to the forefront of his mind when Natasha rocks out a little - just an inch, maybe, if that - and thrusts back in, harder than before. Sam hisses into her mouth and feels her lips form into a smile as she does it again, pulling out a little farther and driving back a little harder each time. Her hands slide down from his chest to his hips and her fingers curl around the jut of his hipbones tightly, digging in, keeping him still as she rolls her hips forward. He tries to jerk up into her - she’s at just the wrong angle, just slightly too low - but she holds him down, shoving him back into the bed.

“You want something, you ask for it,” she growls in his ear.

Her voice makes him shudder, makes the “please, go higher, harder, please” fall out of his mouth without him meaning to, and then she adjusts herself just right, so the ridge at the head of the dildo drags across his prostate with each pull out and each thrust back in.

Sam all but howls, and then immediately clamps one hand over his mouth. He doesn’t know if Steve is home yet, or if there’s anyone around (or, God forbid, if Bucky’s somehow lurking in the living room– but don’t think about that now, Wilson, he chastises himself just before Natasha jerks his hips back particularly hard and whites out all thought).

He reaches for her left hand (it’s still on his right hip, but it’s not squeezing anymore) and guides it to his cock, which is resting heavy between them. Natasha immediately curls her fingers around it and gives it an experimental stroke. Sam sighs in relief and his eyes flutter shut again, guiding her hand up and down in time with her thrusts. He lets go after a moment and she keeps his rhythm, and it feels so good like this, being stimulated from both sides, it’s almost too much. Sam reaches up and runs his hands up Natasha’s sides, cups her breasts through her tank top, dips his fingers under the spandex hem so that he ran roll her nipples between his fingers. Natasha’s breath stutters just a little bit, but Sam still grins up at her before propping himself up to mouth at her throat. He knows better than to leave any marks, but he feels rather than hears the quiet whimper she lets out when his teeth graze the tendon in her neck. Her grip on his cock tightens with renewed intent, and then she’s jerking him off hard and fast, two or three strokes for every one thrust of her hips. She’s lost the angle again, lost it when Sam moved up, but no sooner does Sam realize she’s missing his prostate than she finds it again and he doesn’t bother to muffle his yell this time.

“You close, Sam?” Natasha breaths, panting a little. “You gonna come? Am I gonna make you come on my dick?”

Sam groans again. “Nat, God, yes, c’mon girl.” Natasha’s free hand is curled around his shoulder, now, using the extra leverage to fuck him even harder. “Come on, I’m so close, please.”

“You’re good,” Natasha says, strain evident in her voice. “Come on, I got you, go ahead.”

Sam arches his back and Natasha squeezes his shoulder and he falls apart under her, mumbling what must be absolute nonsense as he comes all over his own stomach. Natasha drags it out for a long, long time, only slowing down when Sam’s cock gives a last twitch in victory and he sags back against the bed. He flinches when she pulls out of him, but he doesn’t open his eyes until he hears a sharp intake of breath.

Natasha’s sitting on the end of the bed, across from him, one leg fallen to the side to expose now-bare hips, two fingers pressed inside herself and her thumb working against her clit as fast as her jerked off Sam. Sam raises his head a little to get a better view and Natasha sees the motion out of the corner of her eye. She winks at him, then lets her head tip back, baring her throat and exposing the one faint bruise that Sam didn’t manage to keep himself from leaving. It ripples over Natasha’s skin as she swallows and moans and arches into her own touch, riding her fingers hard until she abruptly tenses, and then relaxes. She kicks the dildo and the leather straps off the bed with one foot, then rolls over to lie next to Sam, chest rising and falling just a little faster than normal.

He raises his eyebrows. “You wanna go again?”

She grins. “If you’d be so kind.”

Her mouth finds his and his fingers find her clit and he grinds two more orgasms out of her without stopping, until she’s shaking just as hard as he was and she shoves his hand away and licks his fingers clean because she knows he likes it.

“So,” Sam says finally.

“So.” Natasha sounds amused.

“So was that a good eBay find or what?”

Natasha laughs and smacks him with a sweat-dampened pillow.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> For reference, the dildo itself looks like [this](https://38.media.tumblr.com/f306cf7db4eabf38b105d6f9a13084a8/tumblr_nchc0nAW141r99yiqo1_500.png) and was designed for this fic by [series](http://superqueerpasta.tumblr.com).


End file.
